Re-reading An Old Book

I'm re-reading an old book today,

The same one,

I knew every line of,

With phrases highlighted and underlined,

Annotated margins with random thoughts.

Some with context,

Others, without,

Followed by my own poems,

Wherever I could find space,

Whenever I got inspired.

I'm reading that same book, again,

And some lines surprise me,

As if I'm reading them for the very time,

Like I've underlined them,

For this very moment,

To leave me astonished,

To hold me by my shoulders,

And shake me whole,

To stop my breath,

Making me want to take a walk around the house,

Holding the book close to my heart,

Only you sit down on the floor,

And re-read the lines again, loudly,

Until they reverberate in my rib cage.

I'm re-reading an old book today,

But it all feels new,

Like the words here were never written like this,

Like the words knew,

Exactly what I needed to read,

Like the lines knew,

Every bit of you.